In Remembrance
by Indecisively Yours
Summary: In a way, she thanks Finn for all of this.


_I'm not too sure what to say. Enjoy._

* * *

She remembers the last time her phone rang. She rarely received any calls that weren't from her mother, so to see this name on her caller ID caught her off guard.

She remembers where she was when she received the news: just outside of her women's studies course, on her way to meet her friends for lunch.

She remembers the crack in his voice as he spoke, sharing the tragic information, knowing it ripped him apart to say it as much as it tore her apart to hear it.

She remembers taking a detour straight to her dorm, rushing into her room, shutting the lights off, and crawling into bed.

She remembers realizing he was on the phone with her throughout it all, letting the silence and occasional choked back sobs be the only form of communication between the two.

"The funeral's this week," he whispered.

She remembers the crack in his voice as he relayed the time and date to her.

"Stay on the phone with me a little longer," she told him.

She remembers breaking into a sob once the news settled again; he joined her soon after.

* * *

They sat at each other's side at the funeral. In the months that they've been gone, their mothers became best friends.

The two of them comforted each other, one mourning the loss of her daughter's ex-boyfriend while the other mourned the loss of her son's best friend.

She reached over for his hand. Her fingers gently slipped into his hard grip. Whatever tension wasn't present in his jaws was in a hard look, hidden behind his sunglasses.

She swears she saw a tear slip that day. As she accompanied him to the grave, both having grabbed a handful of dirt to throw onto the casket, she swore she saw another one fall.

* * *

No color graced her wardrobe for days.

His mother was surprised he had black shirts for days on end.

* * *

"You know, alcohol's not allowed on school grounds," she told him.

She would leave come tomorrow. While her teachers had understood about the past few days, she didn't have the luxury of the former kids to drop classes and join the mourning in Lima.

"Good thing I'm not a student anymore," he retorted.

She watched as he took a harsh swig of Jack. It'd be forever his vice of choice. The summer after they gave Beth away, she found more than one bottle littered about his bedroom.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," she said. "You haven't called in two days."

He shrugged. If he could shrug in a phone conversation, that's probably what he would have done. Another harsh swig of whiskey. She reached out for it. He stopped her hand from pulling it away.

"Leave it alone, Quinn," he said. "Just...go."

She sighed. Looking out into the field, she spotted the newly planted tree. A commemorative plaque was placed underneath it with Finn's name.

"You can't keep it all bottled up, Puck," she told him.

He glanced up at her. The words flew out of his mouth harshly, bitterly.

"I wish it was me," he said.

She shut her eyes tightly. She hated herself for disagreeing. She hated herself for feeling that way.

"I wouldn't be as strong as Rachel," she told him.

She slipped her fingers once again into his harsh grip. They said pain was always a surefire sign you weren't dreaming.

* * *

She heard through the grapevine about a memorial dedicated to him three weeks after the fact.

He kept her updated. He promised he'd stop drinking. He lied that he did. He assured her he had stopped two weeks later.

* * *

He surprised her with a visit when he got word she'd be at the city loft for a weekend.

(No one mentioned his name until they all got drunk one night and shared their favorite memories of him.)

She headed to the spare bed with him in tow. Her fingers found his harsh grip on instinct.

(On nights like these, Kurt finds it best to sleep with Rachel.)

She tucked herself into his side as her head found the crook of his neck to combat the chilly night air.

(Puck told Quinn earlier about his enlistment and near departure for the air force's basic training.)

He promised her he'd visit after his training and before his assignment.

* * *

Stationed.

"I can't lose you."

Two years.

"You won't."

Overseas.

* * *

She knew why he did this.

He skipped out on telling her he got shot.

She still didn't approve of this.

* * *

"Turn around," he told her. "You're not looking at the camera."

He missed her graduation so the captured it all through a video chat.

"Puck, I can't spot my mom. How can you spot me?" she asked. "There are at least three blonde girls near me."

She stood on her tip toes in an attempt to find her mother.

"I know what you look like, babe," he said. "Just turn around."

She sighed but she did regardless. Almost immediately, she spotted him standing there in his trademark leather jacket, with his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"Puck!" she called out.

He smiled. She ran to him and wrapped her arms around him.

"You planned this all along, didn't you?" she asked.

He laughed. Her mother stood back, along with his sister and his mother.

"I hate you," she whispered.

She hid her face in the crook of his neck as he held her tighter.

"I love you," he whispered back.

* * *

Quinn can't forget—the good times, the bad times, the in between times shared with Puck.

She never will.

In a way, she thanks Finn for that parting gift.


End file.
